


Not that Gabe cares

by Swagreus (shiplizard)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Comedy, Denial of Feelings, Gratuitous artistic references, Lots of descriptions of dick, M/M, Pre-Slash, Soldier Enhancement Program Era, Unresolved Sexual Tension, big thirst, just a lot of Gabe thinking about Jack's dick that's it that's the fic, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 00:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiplizard/pseuds/Swagreus
Summary: Written for the Overwatch kinkmeme!Recruit 76 has a fat cock, just a real girthy pipe, a large-diameter hose, not that Gabe has noticed.





	Not that Gabe cares

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, adventurous souls, you know there's a kinkmeme? There's an [Overwatch Kinkmeme!](https://overwatchevents.dreamwidth.org/3216.html) If you're over 18, go give it some love. 
> 
> Coordinator twitter account: [Overwatch Events](https://twitter.com/ovwevents)
> 
> [The prompt](https://overwatchevents.dreamwidth.org/3216.html?thread=10640#cmt10640): "Rigorous anecdotal science has shown that Gabe has a thick dick in most (possibly all) fics while Jack has a long but thinner one. Please address this injustice by letting Jack have the thicker dick for once."
> 
> Did I like the 'pretty but boring like amber waves of grain' imagery so much that I used it in two fills without realizing it? I sureass did.

Gabe is chatting with one of his fellow marines when Morrison strolls by; he ignores the blond and finishes his thought.

Cohen gives him a politely blank look.

He reviews his last sentence.

_ So I figure the chance of us seeing action  in the next three months is pretty plump. _

"Prime," he corrects, and she gives him a slow smile. He scowls back.

"So," she says. "Morrison?"

"In his corn-fed dreams."

It's the asymmetry that bothers him, that's all. He's a creative guy, even if he's not an artist himself, he notices when things fit pleasingly together, when they don't.

Morrison doesn't fit pleasingly together.

Not that he's not pretty.  He's very pretty, not in a way that does much for Gabe, but objectively, the guy's handsome. If Leyendecker had been commissioned to draw a salt-of-the-earth, wholesome, Indiana farm-boy, the grudging result would be Jack Morrison. Statuesque, straight lines, chiseled jaw, straight, angular nose, flat ass because body-fat would be gauche. Resting bitch eyebrows, shapely but thin lips, inevitable blond hair, oddly pristine complexion. He's so pretty he's almost sexless, actually. Like a ken doll or a fashion maquette.

And Gabe'd seen him in his shorts during a couple games of shirts-and-skins, and it was the same all the way down. Un-ending expanses of un-blemished skin and excellent proportions. Scenic, like a field of grain, and just as boring in the long run. 

And then after a month and some of rubbing elbows they'd happened to be stuck in the communal showers at the same time. Gabe usually holds out for one of the two private stalls-- showering is quiet time, not 'Danson tries to get you to talk about war movies' time, but it'd been crowded and he'd sucked it up and okay he'd seen Morrison's business.

Leyendecker would not have drawn Morrison's package. You could have held a gun to his head and he would have refused.

It was sort of ugly is the thing, on Jack's otherwise dully-perfect body.  Scrotum wrinkled and shapeless as a half-filled grocery sack, looking crude in contrast to those slim, alabaster thighs of his. Then his actual cock was surprisingly thick, all turtled up inside an intact, wrinkled foreskin. Gabe had only had a glimpse, but he’s pretty sure that it was almost fatter than it was long while flaccid. Put him in cold enough water it'd look like a tuna can.

Gabe finds himself trying to describe it in his head, just trying to reconcile the imbalance. 'Chubby' doesn't quite fit, 'stout' is closer... ‘proportionately like a beer can in a bottle-sized koozie’ is too wordy.

He wants to see it again, just out of scientific curiosity.  He just needs to get a good look then it'll get out of his head. He'd like to touch it, too, to make a qualitative comparison to the firm texture of Jack's skin over his bicep. That's out of the question, obviously.

Although. If Jack ever goes commando in those gym-shorts of his, he'll be one wrong move away from his balls spilling right out the leg hole-- given how they roughhouse it's almost a done deal, one of these days. His balls will smack heavy and pendulous against Gabe's thigh, or the back of the hand if they're mid-grapple, and then he'll know. It won’t be a thing, all of the recruits have gone through too much together to give a fuck about a little skin. Jack probably won't even stop wrestling with him, that's how little either of them cares. 

...'Rubenesque.' Except that Rubens drew unobtrusive little classical-art dicks. But if he'd drawn genitalia the way he drew asses, with the sole purpose of illustrating the debauchery and frailty of the flesh, he'd have drawn Jack's dick.

Anyway. It's the asymmetry of it all. That's the reason he can't get it out of his head. Jack's not his kind of guy at all. Can you imagine? Gabe interested in that white-bread heartland queen? Fine, Morrison's actually pretty okay when you get to know him but they're just friends. There's no attraction there.

"Reyes? Reyes, you with me?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Yeah, the training schedule is pretty fat, isn't it?"

Fuck.

  
  
  



End file.
